


tinsel and mulled wine

by travellinglinen



Series: you're gonna wanna be my best friend, baby [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Skeppy is Good with Kids, Soft Bad, Soft Skeppy, Which is spoilers for this part is done over lmao, im making these both tags and im dying on that hill, it's Christmas, it's cute okay, skeppy is a good person and he does nice things the end merry christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28262655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellinglinen/pseuds/travellinglinen
Summary: "Skeppy," Bad says, "how much of my stuff do you steal?""Well," he says, "this isn't my Christmas jumper, so."Bad turns his betrayed expression to the Rudolph on Skeppy's jumper. "IknewI recognised that," he hisses.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Series: you're gonna wanna be my best friend, baby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009569
Comments: 16
Kudos: 292





	tinsel and mulled wine

By Christmas, they've more than settled into living together. Skeppy feels happy, happier than he's ever been for this long. He and Bad still argue from time to time, usually on streams, where Bad seems to be physically unable to help himself. But Skeppy wakes up and sees his best friend before anyone else, and sometimes one of them will walk in on Rocco and Lucy curled up together, and the whole thing makes his chest feel golden and warm. 

It's domestic. Skeppy loves it.

The house starts to get into the full swing of Christmas practically as soon as December hits. The SMP gets candy canes and snow and themed builds practically overnight, and when Skeppy comes away from recording the house feels more than a little plain in comparison.

He bites his lip, but it's not even five minutes before he's looking up nearby tree farms.

"I usually have a fake one," Bad says, when Skeppy shows him his phone screen later. He seems a little surprised, but amenable, so Skeppy holds out hope. 

"Me too," he admits, looking back at the photo of rows of trees on his screen. "In LA it was just easier."

And living alone, there hadn't seemed to be much point to going all-out when it was just him. From what he can read on Bad's face, it was the same for him too. 

"So," he says, clapping his hands once and letting himself rock up onto his tiptoes. Now that Bad's on board, his excitement is only growing: Bad smiles back at him, eyes fond. Skeppy tries not to flush. "Do you want to drive, or should I?"

"I'm driving," Bad says instantly, and then he stops and goes, "We're doing it _now?"_

"Yes!"

"What - Skeppy, we don't even have a tree stand, or _anything_ that we're gonna need."

Skeppy seriously doubts that. "You've got tinsel, yeah? And lights, and baubles."

"I . . . have. But don't we need other stuff?"

"I don't think so." When he was younger, they'd had a really heavy tree stand, and he remembers helping his mom and dad get the tree straight to secure the trunk in it. He and his sister used to play rock-paper-scissors over who got to pour the water in for the tree. "Just a tree stand and a tree. And we can get that on the way back from the tree place."

He gives Bad his best pleading expression and holds it until Bad snorts, relaxing with a sigh that's far more dramatic than it needs to be. 

///

The tree farm is gorgeous and crowded, string lights that stretch over their heads and make everything glow. There's a gigantic inflatable Santa by the entrance, hand lifted in a wave, and Skeppy watches a child stop to stare up at its face, mouth open. Her parents smile, then heft her up and swing her through the actual entrance: she laughs in delight the entire time, the tassels on her hat flying. 

Skeppy realises that Bad's looking at him and blinks back, startled. "What?"

"Nothin'," Bad says, but he's smiling. "C'mon, let's go in."

The trees are grouped by size. Bad pulls him over to some modest ones, all stuff that Bad has decided that they can afford: Skeppy scans them all and resists the urge to wrinkle his nose. There's nothing wrong with them, per se, but they're all very sameish - wide at the bottom, but not too wide, and the kind of tall that comes up to just over head height.

It doesn't feel big enough - not necessarily in the size way, either. Skeppy wants their first Christmas living together to be unforgettable: perfect isn't ever going to happen, not realistically, but he wants to give Bad the best Christmas he's ever had.

Skeppy glances over at him, wondering how to convince him to start looking at bigger trees.

Bad's already looking over at one.

It's in the section Skeppy had pegged earlier. He tracks Bad's gaze to one in particular, with thick green needles and a scattering of gaps in its branches. 

Bad looks torn. He clearly prefers that tree over any of these, but he's stubborn. He's not going to be the one to say _I don't like any of these little ones, let's go over there._

That's fine - Skeppy's happy to take that job. He steps into Bad's line of sight, raising an eyebrow.

"You ready to go?"

Bad shoots him a baffled look. "What? Skeppy, we haven't picked anything yet."

"Yeah we have," he says easily, letting his smile warm his face. "You like that one, right?"

He jerks his head back in the direction of Bad's tree. Bad nearly stops breathing.

"Skeppy, _no."_

"It's a good tree," he says, letting himself laugh a little. It steams in the air and drifts up into the dark sky above them.

"It's probably super expensive," Bad insists. "It's huge."

"It's not that big." Skeppy shoots him a mischievous grin and starts to move; Bad's hand flashes out to grab his arm, pulling him back. "Wh-"

He tugs harder than Skeppy had expected. By the time Bad catches him their faces are nearly touching, breaths mingling in the crisp air. Bad has one hand pressed flat on Skeppy's shoulder, the heat of it sinking through his hoodie and making his chest warm.

Skeppy takes a moment to admire how pretty he is. Bad rolls his eyes and thwacks his arm, but there's a blush high on his cheeks as he tips Skeppy back upright.

 _"Focus,_ you muffinhead," he huffs. "What's wrong with these trees?"

"They're _boring,_ dude," Skeppy says, throwing dignity to the wind. "I don't want your first Christmas with me to be boring. I want it to be memorable."

Bad softens. His eyes catch the glow of the string lights overhead, twinkling like stars in his blown pupils. Skeppy had been deliberately blatant a second ago, when they'd been closer, but there really is something about Bad in person that keeps making his breath catch.

"Alright," Bad relents. "We can go and _look_ at it."

Skeppy beams at him.

///

Five minutes later, they pass the little girl and her parents again on their way to find the tree seller guy. The three of them are still clustered by the entrance: her parents are talking animatedly, but the little girl is visibly not listening. She's staring at the inflatable Santa again, gloved hand in her Dad's, and then she turns her head and Skeppy finds himself making eye contact.

They both blink at each other, surprised. He lets his face warm into a friendly smile, hoping he doesn't scare her somehow, and she lifts her free hand to wave at him.

Skeppy waves back. She's still looking at him curiously though, so he sticks his tongue out and crosses his eyes, pulls a series of faces until she laughs. It rings across the tree farm, bright and bubbling, and Skeppy tries not to look too sheepish when her parents look over and catch him pulling his ears out.

At his side, he hears a familiar laugh.

Bad looks amused when Skeppy twists to eye him. "Busted," he teases, fondness curling around every syllable.

"Shut up."

"C'mon, mister," Bad says, pulling him along again. "I'll buy you a hot chocolate on the way home if you want."

"I'm not a kid," Skeppy protests, but it doesn't come out with as much heat as it probably should. It may not be the coldest he's ever been outside in, but it is chilly, and a hot chocolate sounds kind of awesome.

"Of course," Bad says, patting his arm.

_"Bad -"_

///

Skeppy insists on paying for the tree, which results in a lot of arguments from Bad, mostly consisting of _it's Christmas!,_ which is the entire reason he'd been planning on doing this anyway, and _you already spend too much money on me,_ which is probably true but not something that he can particularly bring himself to mind too much.

On their way out, though, Skeppy hears the little girl say, "This one!"

A quick glance over his shoulder tells him that the family have stopped at the end of his and Bad's original row. The little girl is pointing at a tree with a wonky trunk that looks like it's about to fall over. It's on sale, he can see the tag from here, but Skeppy can also see her parents' faces and it's obvious that Christmas spirit can only take them so far. 

"It's like the leaning tower of pizza!" she exclaims, proud. "I learned about it in school, remember?"

Neither of her parents seem to have the heart to tell her that it's Pisa.

"Amelia," one of them says, hesitant and quiet. Skeppy bites his lip. "I don't think we can have that one."

Amelia looks up at them with huge eyes. "Why not?"

"Because we can't afford it, sweetheart," her mom says, visibly heartbroken. "It's a pretty big tree."

Skeppy bumps his elbow against Bad's, murmuring something - he doesn't know what, and it doesn't really matter anyway. Bad shoots him a quick curious look, but gratefully goes to warm up in the car and saves his questions for later.

It's pretty easy to find the tree guy again. "Hey," Skeppy says, desperately hoping that nobody's looking at him. If they try to thank him he's going to die on the spot. "Uh, can I buy a tree?"

"That's what you're here for," the guy says. "Though I'd swear you've already got one." 

"No, no - I mean, yeah, I have, but it's not for me." He tries not to shift from foot to foot. "There's a family behind me, right, a little girl with her mom and dad -"

The tree guy's face shifts from confusion to a broad, toothy grin as he explains. Skeppy asks him to tell Amelia that it's a present from Santa for being on the nice list, and he nods so enthusiastically that his hat nearly falls off.

"D'you want me to slip a word to her parents?"

"No, I'm good," Skeppy says instantly. "Uh, thanks, though. Just a Christmas gift."

"Doubt that's what they'll see it as," the tree guy says simply. He takes his hat off and bows his head, smile broad and eyes bright. "Merry Christmas t'you, sir."

"You too," Skeppy says. He turns back to the entrance with a wave. "Have a good night!"

(Bad gives him a knowing look when he gets back into the car. Skeppy flushes and tells him to start the car so he can have his hot chocolate, but Bad insists on waiting for Amelia and her family to come out.

It's worth it to see the dazed joy on her parents' faces alone, but the bright, intact sparkle of Christmas excitement on Amelia's face is more than enough to make Skeppy's heart melt.)

///

Bad had made another batch of mulled wine earlier, much smaller than the one he'd made last year even though there's two of them drinking it now. Skeppy smiles to himself, remembering how Bad had complained about how much he'd had of it left - it had stretched well after Christmas, almost into the new year.

Neither of them tend to drink much, so they're mostly moving their glasses around as they decorate. The fire is steadily churning out heat down at shin-level, its glow spreading across the overflowing box of baubles in the middle of the floor. There are a few filler ornament sets that Bad has, and the gold and silver ones reflect each sway of the flames, every flicker. Skeppy keeps finding himself watching it, content.

They'd turned off the overhead light a while ago, so they're just going off of the decorative lights, a lamp in one corner, and the fire.

It's cosy.

Skeppy finishes threading tinsel around the few things they have on the mantlepiece and scoops up his glass from where he'd left it on the end, putting it down next to Bad's on the coffee table. He casts a quick look at the fire, but it doesn't need anything doing to it yet, so he turns to the Christmas tree instead.

It really is huge - they'd known, that, obviously, especially since it had been a pain to drive back with. But it looks even bigger inside, not helped by the way the tip had bent awkwardly against the ceiling.

Bad had attempted to use this to reinforce his (half-hearted) argument that they hadn't needed one this big. Skeppy had taken a pair of scissors to the top in retaliation, ignoring Bad's gasp, and wiggled the star on top, smug.

("It's still touching the ceiling," Bad had pointed out.

"It's only the tip of the star," Skeppy had said. "But I can go back up there and cut the tree more if you don't like it."

"No!")

What also doesn't help with how big the tree looks is the way Bad is shoulders-deep in the branches, head turned away so he doesn't get a faceful of pine needles as he winds tinsel the so-called "proper way". There's already lights on - two strings of them, actually, since Bad hadn't wanted it to look stingy. Skeppy can see through one of the gaps in the branches down to the trunk, can see Bad's fingers working and the layers of tinsel going on.

Bad leans impossibly further into the tree to pass the tinsel around the far side. Skeppy quietly takes a picture, smiling, and tucks his phone back into his pocket.

"Bad?"

"Yeah?" Bad says, muffled. Skeppy watches his shoulders brace, tries not to laugh when his scrunched-up face slowly turns into view. Bad sees it anyway, rolling his eyes and pulling the tinsel back towards himself. He leans back, out of the tree. "Skeppy?"

"Yeah," he says. "Uh, I put my glass next to yours, so don't pick up the wrong one."

His mulled wine has a little more alcohol in it than Bad's, though that's not saying much. Bad is the world's worst lightweight, but neither of them want to get much further than the verge of tipsy.

Bad eyes the table. "Which one's yours?"

Skeppy looks down and pauses. "Um. . ."

_"Skeppy."_

"I'll just taste both!" He scoops up the closest one and sips it, but in all honesty it just tastes like mulled wine and so does the second.

"Skeppy, one of those was -" Bad sighs. There's silver tinsel draped around his feet in a pool from the strand he's holding in one hand. Skeppy has been sneaking handfuls of red glitter into his hair since they got back, and he hasn't noticed yet: he looks both very festive and incredibly exasperated. "One of those was mine, you muffinhead."

"You can still drink it." Skeppy thinks one of them maybe tasted a bit more alcoholic, and it lines up with where he thinks he put his, so he extends Bad's to him. "Here."

"You've drunk out of it, though."

Skeppy rolls his eyes. "What are you, seven? C'mon, Bad, I steal your drinks all the time and you don't care then."

"You - _what?"_

He tries to keep a straight face, but he can feel little giggles slipping out. "What?"

"Skeppy," Bad says, "how much of my stuff do you steal?"

"Well," he says, "this isn't my Christmas jumper, so."

Bad turns his betrayed expression to the Rudolph on Skeppy's jumper. "I _knew_ I recognised that," he hisses, mostly to himself. Skeppy goes to hide a smile behind a sip of Bad's wine, but Bad snatches the glass out of his hand before he can drink any more.

He grins. "You didn't say anything about it in the first minute," he chirps. "So now I can keep it, that's the rules."

"Those are _not_ the rules." 

"They are too," Skeppy says. "How's the tinsel going?"

"It's going good," Bad says, letting the conversation drop. Skeppy knows him, though: this jumper is going to miraculously disappear back to Bad's room as soon as possible, probably along with one of Skeppy's hoodies if Bad thinks he can get away with it. "This tree is so big, though, Skeppy. . ."

"It's _Christmas._ And it fits, right?"

"Only because you mutilated it with scissors," Bad grumbles.

"Alright," Skeppy says, exasperated, "there's no harm in it, Bad, and I already apologised to the tree and everything -"

Bad laughs quietly into his glass. Skeppy realises abruptly that he's being wound up and flicks his arm, scowling.

"Shut up," he says. "Go back to your tinsel, Mr. ChristmasBoyHalo."

Bad carts his wine back over to the tree, laughing openly. He bends to pick the tinsel back up and causes a shower of fine red glitter.

He pauses. Skeppy can feel his shoulders shaking, but Bad looks over his shoulder and he tries to look like he's busy considering the baubles instead.

"Skeppy," Bad says, "have you been putting glitter in my hair?"

The urge to laugh is too strong: he can feel a wide grin forcing itself onto his face, and the laugh that bursts out of him is loud and contagious. Bad ruffles his hair and sends a small explosion over the entire room, then makes a helpless noise and starts to laugh too.

"How long has that even _been_ there?"

Skeppy wheezes so hard that he collapses to the sofa and flops back. Bad appears over him with a pot of blue glitter and upends it over him before he can defend himself.

(They find glitter everywhere in the house for months.)

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS IT'S THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR WOOOOOO


End file.
